


The Beauty of Pain

by Romancemesomeziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Smut, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romancemesomeziam/pseuds/Romancemesomeziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe the little bruises and cuts that show up on your body seemingly out of nowhere are actually little injuries that happened to your soul mate and you get the same marks on your skin as them." ***</p><p>or</p><p>When Zayn spends his entire life experiencing the pain and suffering of a person he has yet to met, but loves deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beauty of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> ***The summary and idea for this fic actually come from a post I found on tumblr. All credit to that person, it was a great idea. 
> 
> http://jensendaddy.tumblr.com/post/76388887267/maybe-the-little-bruises-and-cuts-that-show-up-on
> 
> Also, thanks to Chronicler for helping me out.

There was another bruise blossoming along the edge of Zayn’s knuckles, a mixture of purples, blues and black staining his skin. He knew he had done nothing to earn himself such a bruise, but it caused his heart to plummet, a sharp stab of pain spreading through his chest.

Thing is this had happened all his life. Ever since he was a few months old, bruises and scrapes had appeared over his body without explanation. As a child he had been horribly sick, no medical diagnosis making sense with his symptoms. In the end the doctors told his mother that Zayn had probably already crossed path with his soul mate but that person must be mortally ill, causing Zayn to experience the other person’s suffering.

It was a rare thing in this world, most soul mates only starting to experience the other’s pains and happiness after they had met. In reality the rules of the universe connected two soul mates once they visually crossed paths, even if they didn’t acknowledge each other. That meant that as a baby, nearly a newborn, Zayn had met the person that was destined to be his forever and now, he had to live his life suffering that person’s pain.

Usually, when two soul mates finally met, their aches and bruises diminished, overrun by their love and happiness. Yet at the age of 21, Zayn had yet to actually find his soul mate, wondering every time a new scar etched itself into his skin if he ever would.

The strangest part was that the marks on his skin didn’t hurt per say, nothing but a very dull discomfort settling in his bones. On the contrary what hurt was his heart. Even if Zayn didn’t know his soul mate, he had an unbreakable connection to that person, an invisible string attaching their hearts together in a whole that was meant to be perfect. They loved each other without knowing who they were, and every bruise was like a reminder that his soul mate needed him. As self absorbed as it sounded, everyone knew it was true. One advantage of finding one’s soul mate was the serenity it brought, the peace and happiness that it caused.

His mother had always told Zayn that finding his dad had been like coming home after being lost for 18 years. She always claimed she had been lucky, crossing paths the same day they fell in love.  She had never in fact experienced the pain and frustration Zayn went through on a daily basis ever since he was old enough to understand what was happening to him.

He remembered being a mere child in primary school, big bruises blooming over his hands making him cry even though they caused no physical pain other than a light heated sensation. He remembered being in high school, drawing in class out of boredom and feeling bruises spread across his shoulders and ribs. He always wondered what was happening to his soul mate, what terrible occurrences they could be going through for such recurring injuries to mark Zayn’s skin.

In fact, when he was 8 years old he had spent an entire week in bed, barely able to stand from the sheer emotional turmoil the aches and bruises on his body caused him. His parents had been beyond worried, inviting everyone they recalled meeting when Zayn was a baby in hopes he would find his soul mate again, but with no avail.

“Again?” asked Niall as he pushed a cup of tea in front of Zayn, eyeing the bruises that kept darkening on his skin.

Shaking his head, a frustrated shrug falling from his shoulders Zayn just sipped at his tea, reading for the sixth time the same line in his textbook.

“Mate, you have to go out. This is becoming worrisome,” Niall said as he sat next to him, running what was supposed to be a comforting hand down his back.

Zayn tried to smile at his best mates, but knew better than to try and blow Niall off. They had met three years ago, on move in day and had been inseparable since. Niall was the type of person that was too nice and carefree for anyone to hate, pushing his way into Zayn’s grumpy habits. He was all smiles and snapbacks, his thick Irish accent Zayn’s favorite alarm clock. He also loved Niall’s entire family, especially his mom who sent countless amounts of baked goods for them to feed off of, their student cards already loaded with unnecessary expenses.

People often found it weird that they were friends considering the fact that they were so different. Niall was the life of the party, the loving guy that everyone knew and admired whereas Zayn usually stayed home and studied, spending more time with Netflix than actual humans.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people or didn’t know how to interact with them, but he usually got uncomfortable when they pointed at his bruises and scars, demanding to know where they came from. He didn’t want to share the fact he’d spent over two decades suffering because he was unable to find his soul mate, didn’t want people’s pity because of it.

What he hated most however was the things people often ended up saying about his soul mate, how that person might be a criminal or something like that to have such extensive injuries. Zayn couldn’t help but become defensive, a pull in his heart telling him they were wrong.

Ever since he had understood the concepts of soul mates and knew his was suffering, he had always had the odd sensation that he knew the person. He felt as though his soul mate was beyond nice, the type of person that did everything to please others, that fought so hard to be liked but failed. He felt as though all that person’s suffering was undeserved, being dealt an unlucky hand and yet making the most of it.

When he closed his eyes, Zayn saw someone a bit like Niall, with a permanent smile etched upon their face that would brighten his life and bring him out of his shell. He felt as though the day they’d meet would be beginning of both their lives, forgetting the past and moving towards something better together.

“I’m not much for frat parties Niall,” Zayn replied when Niall kicked at his shin, asking for a reply. “You don’t need me there.”

“I sure fucking do mate,” countered Niall, pulling the snapback off his head to place it over Zayn’s, pushing it down until Zayn could barely see. “You’re the best wing man ever and I’m done with your mopping. Even if you refuse to fuck someone you can like kiss them or suck their dicks.”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn pushed away from the table, snapping his book shut as he went about pulling some ingredients out for supper. “We’ve been over this, it feels wrong.”

“I know,” sighed Niall, flicking a crumb on the counter in Zayn’s direction before grinning at him. “I don’t have a clue what you’re going through mate but I want to help. C’mon, just come out with me tonight. You’ll never meet Thor if you don’t.”

Glaring at Niall, a murderous look in his eyes, Zayn threw a piece of bread at the man, ignoring the fact Niall almost fell off his chair as he tried to catch it. “I told you not to call them that, I don’t even know if it’s a boy.”

“Fine fine,” conceded Niall as he stepped around the counter, arms up offering his surrender. “Just come out, if you’re bored we can come home and play video games.”

“If I go you’ll leave me alone?”

Niall seemed to consider the offer as he reached out for a carrot Zayn was cutting, popping it into his mouth before chewing loudly.

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the semester, take it or leave it Malik.”

Humming his agreement, Zayn ignored Niall’s celebratory cheering, concentrating on the food before him. He knew staying in and spending all his free time in his books would not help his case, but most days he couldn’t help himself. He felt more comfortable in the confines of their apartment than he did in the outside world.

 At least when he was alone and a new mark appeared on his skin he didn’t have to feign a story and excuse himself. On the contrary when he was alone he was free to skim his fingers over the new bruise as he closed his eyes, wishing he was with the person he had learned to blindly love to ease their suffering.

\-----------------------------------------------

“Have a beer,” Niall said as he shoved a red solo cup into Zayn’s hand, grinning from ear to ear. “You look hot as fuck mate, if it wasn’t for that red head over there eye fucking me, I’d do you.”

“Thanks mate,” grumbled Zayn, knowing that coming from Niall it was a compliment. “Go on, I’ll survive a few hours without you.”

Nodding, Niall seemed reluctant for a minute, watching the red head over his shoulder before turning back towards Zayn.

“Go!” Zayn emphasized, taking a sip of his beer to prove a point.

With a smile, Niall reached out to clap Zayn on the shoulder before turning away, heading directly for the girl that had been eyeing him ever since they had walked in. Immediately, Zayn shoulders slumped forward as he sighed, rubbing at his face. The beer was stale and the music was nothing near his taste, a cacophony of sounds that made no sense together. Easing himself through the crowd, he headed towards the kitchen, hoping he could find something better tasting to drink.

There was a table set in the middle of the crowded kitchen, a few guys prepping a game of beer pong as Zayn passed near them, keeping his eyes set on the ground. He felt the burning sensation of a new bruise spreading through his shoulder, making him grateful he’d worn a long sleeve shirt rather than a tank top.

Pouring the beer down the sink, Zayn turned around, skimming the contents of the counter until he found a can of Pepsi.  Just as he was about to open it, a hand settled on his shoulder, turning him around easily.

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you mate, Andy has been going around shaking them all night,” a tall boy with a snapback told him, his warm brown eyes skimming the lines of Zayn’s body. “Are you new here, I’ve never seen you around?”

“I came with Niall,” stuttered Zayn, his hands suddenly shaking. There was an odd sensation settling at the bottom of his stomach, a lightness fogging his mind as he reached out for the counter, trying to keep himself vertical.

Immediately there was a large hand on his hip keeping him steady, a warm body pressed to his front as his vision swam.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he tried to pull away, the hand around his waist keeping him grounded. “I feel a little nauseous.”

“Yeah me too,” the stranger replied, tipping Zayn’s chin up. “Do you want to lie down, my room is upstairs?”

Zayn knew he should probably say no, that following a frat boy up to his room was bound to end badly but something deep in his gut told him he had to do it. Nodding, he allowed the other man to intertwine their fingers as he was pulled through the house, carefully avoiding drunk bodies as he went.

In no time he found himself sitting on the edge of a double bed, the room around him nothing he expected to find in a frat house. The walls were covered with different band posters, a few marvel ones littering the far wall. The surprising part however was how clean it was, no dirty clothes cluttering the floor and it actually smelled quite pleasant, a mixture of pine tree and chocolate.

“Let me get you a wet cloth,” the stranger said as he closed the door, muting the loud chaos of the party beneath.

Zayn watched as the man walked towards a small door, his wide shoulders barely making it through. For the first time Zayn was able to actually look at the man, the way his button down shirt hugged every curve of his body, his jeans crisp and clean in comparison to the latest fashion trend. He was sporting a snapback similar to one of Niall’s, hiding his hair beneath that seemed quite short, maybe longer on the top. Zayn had the weird desire to find out, an unusual heat settling in his stomach as he fiddled with the hem of his sweater, suddenly nervous.

“Do you want a glass of water or something,” the stranger asked as he came back, offering a wet cloth to Zayn, pushing at his shoulder until he lay down. “You look a little pale mate.”

“I’m fine,” assured Zayn, watching as the man sat next to him, a worried frown making his heavy brows shadow his face.

“Are you sure? I could get Niall for you.”

“You know Niall?” Zayn asked, trying to dismiss the other question, running the wet cloth along his forehead. Truth was, he didn’t exactly know how he felt. The longer he spent time in proximity to this stranger, the calmer he felt.

“Of course I know Niall,” laughed the man, head thrown back as if Zayn had said the funniest joke in the world. “Everybody knows Niall.”

Humming in agreement, Zayn closed his eyes, allowing himself to bathe in the sudden buzzing that coursed through his body, a comforting sensation making him feel as light as air. He pushed his hand against his forehead, moving the cloth over his brow.

Suddenly there was a hand wrapped around his own, fingers skimming along his skin as he opened his eyes briskly.

“Your bruise,” uttered the other man, barely audible. “Your tattoos.”

Before Zayn could reply, the stranger was rummaging through a stack of books at the other end of the room, coming back quickly with a small battered notebook in hand. He fumbled through the pages rapidly, coming to a page that had a childlike drawing of a bird and a date on it. Taking hold of Zayn’s hand again, the stranger placed the drawing next to his tattoo, mumbling something about similarities.

But again, before Zayn could say anything, the other man frowned, flipping a few more pages before pulling at the top of Zayn’s low cut sweater, exposing his tattoos.

“What the hell are you doing?” Zayn growled as he pushed the man’s hand away, suddenly feeling as though this had been a terrible idea. He’d followed a mad man up to his room and was now locked in with him as the guy rambled about dates and pictures.

“You’re him,” said the stranger excitedly, pushing the note book in Zayn face as if the incoherent numbers and words were supposed to mean something to him.

“I think you have the wrong person,” mumbled Zayn as he tried to get off the bed but was quickly stopped, the man standing in front of him with bright eyes and a worried smile ghosting across his face.

“No no no, please listen to me,” the stranger said, hands in the air as if to stop Zayn but never actually touching him. “I know I sound insane but I think you’re my soul mate.”

Instantly, Zayn blood froze in his veins, his entire being shifting as he looked up at the man before him, enthralled by the way his lips moved. The minute the words were uttered he felt as though he had found the anchor to his chain, the exact being was supposed to secure him to earth.

Breathing heavily, he reached out, fingers softly running down the man’s jaw who moaned at the touch, eyes falling closed easily.

“It can’t be,” Zayn whispered, yet feeling the electricity inside of him gathering in a ball of fire, ready to explode any second now.

“It started when you were really young too, right?” asked the stranger, opening his eyes only to nuzzle into Zayn’s touch, who grinned in return. “You were a baby but you could already feel that other person. I bet you were in a lot of pain, mostly when you were like 7 or 8.”

“How –“ started to ask Zayn but was interrupted quickly by the stranger.

“I was hospitalized a lot that year, I had a kidney that didn’t function and I could barely make it out of bed,” explained the man reaching out to run his fingers along Zayn’s lips, smiling sweetly. “I barely ever felt any of my soul mate’s pain, the only times I did it felt concentrated, so I started drawing what I felt, and they turned into images.”

“That shit bird?” asked Zayn, a smirk appearing on his face as the other man scowled.

“Hey, I’m not much of an artist but I tried.”

“Show me the others,” whispered Zayn as he turned towards the bed again, patting the mattress next to him for the other man to sit.

The stranger seemed reluctant, his movement completely off putting on a man his size as he bowed his head, twirling his foot shyly.

“What’s your name?” Zayn asked, suddenly feeling protective.

“Liam,” muttered the other man, looking up at Zayn, before pulling off his snapback, throwing it in a corner of the room. He combed his fingers through the short bit of hair he had, smiling at Zayn as if he was trying to make a good impression.

“I’m Zayn,” Zayn said reassuringly, once again patting the space next to him as he crossed his feet underneath himself, hands settling in his lap. “I’d love to see your drawings, I’ve been dreaming of this for years.”

“Really?” questioned Liam breathlessly, taking a step forth. “I had dreams about you too. Day dreams too.”

Smirking, Zayn nodded, leaning into Liam’s strong shoulder when the other man finally sat next to him.

“I use to think of you when people were mean to me, I figured there was someone out there meant for me that would make it all better eventually,” breathed Liam, looking at Zayn with tears in his eyes, before brushing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What do you mean people were mean to you?” Zayn found himself asking, his hand unconsciously reaching out to run comforting circles into Liam’s arm. The touch was painfully delicious, the single contact spreading through Zayn’s entire body as he found himself leaning further into Liam.

“Just kids being kids I guess,” Liam mumbled, looking away from Zayn. “I was sick a lot as a child and when I made it to school I guess the other kids thought I was odd because I wasn’t used to being around people my age much.”

“But you’re in a frat,” Zayn said confusedly, looking around, numerous pictures of Liam with other people hung around the room. “Why do I still have bruises almost every day, are these people mean to you?”

“God no,” Liam assured. “Things got better when I met Louis and Harry in high school. See, Louis has a huge mouth and as tiny as he is, people are scared as fuck of him. He’s been nice to me ever since we met.”

“And the bruises?” Zayn repeated, thankful that Liam had found someone that eased his suffering even though there was a sting of jealousy in his stomach.

“I box now,” Liam explained, shrugging as he raised his own hand, showing Zayn the bruise that mirrored his own. “Louis’s idea in fact, so that I could defend myself if someone ever tried to hurt me again.”

Reaching out for Liam’s hand, Zayn allowed his fingers to traces the outline of the bruise, careful not to cause Liam any pain.

“This is crazy,” sighed Zayn when Liam’s hand settled on his knee. “I wonder where we first crossed paths.”

With a shrug, Liam took hold of his notebook again, flipping a few pages before falling on a blob of black ink.

“I could never figure out what this one was. It was on my left arm, always drove me crazy because I was scared that for some bizarre reason, I’d have to identify you with this tattoo and I’d miss out.”

“It’s a tiger,” laughed Zayn, pulling a sharpie he always had from his pocket as he started joining certain points on Liam’s drawing. Slowly, the blob turned into a very rough outline of a tiger, before Zayn looked up at Liam, staring at him with wonder.

“Could I see it?”

Usually very self conscious, Zayn found himself standing quickly, pulling at the hem of his shirt until he was able to drag it over his head, dropping the material on the edge of the bed. Immediately, Liam was standing in front of him, eyes trailing over every piece of ink that was visible, lingering slightly on the gun on Zayn’s hip before returning to the tiger.

“I had a plush tiger as a kid,” Liam muttered as his fingers carefully traced the lines of the tattoo, his face coming to rest in the crook of Zayn neck. “I use to whisper prayers into his ears, wishing he would fight off the pain.”

Zayn knew the proximity should probably freak him out, the fact that Liam’s hand was anchored around his naked hip and his lips were pressed to his collarbone, and yet it felt natural. Having Liam there, touching him, holding him was as though he had found his better half. He felt horribly cheesy at the thought, but still worked his fingers through Liam's hair, earning a light moan from the other man.

His lips catching along the side of Liam’s head, Zayn brushed a few gentle kisses along the man’s scalp, buzzing with excitement as Liam pulled away to look at him.

“I want to kiss you,” Liam blurted out as his eyes lingered along Zayn’s lips.

Laughing, Zayn leaned forward, a new found courage boiling through his veins as he pressed his mouth to Liam’s, working their lips together softly as they clung to one another’s body.

“I want to do so much more than kiss you,” whispered Zayn against Liam’s lips, fingers digging into the man’s hip, knowing perfectly well that there would be fingerprint bruises blooming over his own hip in the morning.

“No one’s stopping you,” smirked Liam, suddenly seeming so much more confident, his hands grazing the edge of Zayn’s jeans.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Zayn tried to work open Liam’s shirt, fingers trembling as he pushed every button through its loop. Once every button was undone, he slipped the material off Liam’s broad shoulders, watching it fall to the ground.

“I should probably tell you I’ve never done this before,” Zayn grumbled as he pulled on the hem of Liam’s wifebeater.

A warm hand cupped the back of Zayn’s head at the admission, angling his face up so Liam could lean in and kiss him again.

“I’ve never been with anyone either,” admitted Liam, biting down on his bottom lip. “I always thought it would be weird, especially if I was with a man and I bottomed and my ass hurt.”

Snorting at the thought, Zayn couldn’t help but slap Liam’s shoulder lightly, muffling his laughter into the man’s chest.

“They say it’s the best thing in the world, that you experience the other’s pleasure as much as your own,” continued Liam, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen from Zayn’s ponytail behind his ear. “It’s what my mom used to tell me.”

“Please don’t talk about your mother when I’m thinking about your dick,” Zayn groaned, stripping Liam of his top only to marvel at the man’s chest, fingers trailing over the bruise on Liam’s shoulder which he knew would appear on his own soon. “I need you, we can talk after, yeah?”

“Yeah” agreed Liam, lifting Zayn off his feet only to throw him on the bed, smirking when Zayn squealed in surprise.

Seconds later, Liam was spreading Zayn’s legs to settle between them, kissing his lips before making his way down his body.

“I feel like I’m on fire,” grunted Zayn, as Liam started undoing his jeans, the rough material sliding down his thighs with difficulty. Kneeling in between his legs, Liam smiled, working Zayn’s pants off before his own. He then proceeded to lie down next to Zayn, fingers trailing deliciously slow over his skin, tracing the patterns of red ink upon his chest.

“Me too,” sighed Liam, resting his forehead along Zayn’s collarbone, pressing delicate kisses there, his tongue tracing the foreign words. “Would you mind if I like..bottomed?”

Shaking his head as he scrapped his nails down Liam’s naked back, Zayn hooked his leg over the man’s hip, shifting them until he was straddling Liam’s thighs. Even with their boxers still on, it was obvious that they were both already aroused, their erections straining against the material of their underwear.

“Do you have like, lube?” Zayn asked as he ran a cautious hand up Liam’s thigh, watching with captivated eyes as Liam’s muscles twitched under the hard skin.

“Top drawer,” moaned Liam when Zayn grazed the back of his knuckles over his erection, hips rocking up on their own accord.

Moving quickly, Zayn shuffled off the bed, grabbing a condom from an unopen box and a small bottle of lube. When he turned to face Liam, he realized the other man was now naked, a shy hand pressed to his manhood as he looked up at Zayn through long lashes. Pushing down his own briefs, Zayn climbed back on the bed, trying to shield himself as he sat back on his hunches in between Liam’s barely spread legs. 

“We don’t have to do this-“ Zayn started saying but was quickly interrupted by Liam’s mouth on his own, silencing him with a deep kiss that shocked him to his very core.

He felt a light heat spread through his hips, quickly realizing as he broke the kiss, that it was from how tightly he was holding on to Liam’s waist. But the other man barely seemed to notice as he leaned back, pushing a pillow underneath his hips before spreading his legs, offering himself completely to Zayn.

A little speechless and thoroughly aroused, Zayn quickly coated his fingers with lube, pressing them to Liam’s hole. The groan that escaped the other’s mouth was in itself enough to trigger more precome to leak from Zayn dick, sliding down the side as he pushed the first finger further into Liam.

It was odd for the pressure of his finger to be mirrored in his own body, doubling his pleasure as he gave to Liam and received at the same time. Within seconds, Liam was grunting out loudly as he shamelessly pushed back against the intrusion, wordlessly begging for more. Zayn’s own sounds matched Liam’s as he found himself rising and falling on his hunches, as if he too was pushing back against an intrusion.

By the time Zayn was three fingers in, Liam was nothing more than an incoherent mess, hands fisted tightly into the stark white sheets, Zayn’s name staining the air with every breath he took.

“Please,” Liam moaned out after another twist of Zayn’s finger. “I’m ready, please.”

Zayn removed his fingers from Liam, smirking lightly to himself at the whine that escaped the larger man. With trembling hands he pried the condom wrapper open, clumsily rolling it onto himself before looking up at Liam. He crawled a little closer, lifting Liam’s thighs so they were wrapped around his hips, giving himself a better angle as he pushed in, barely able to contain his excitement.

A thin layer of sweater already covered Liam’s entire body, tasting of salt as Zayn leaned down to lick the man’s neck, loving the feel of their stubble rubbing against one another.

“Need you to move,” gasped Liam, as Zayn allowed his hips to push further, repeating the movement slowly as they both groaned with every shift of their bodies.

Every sound Liam made, Zayn mirrored, the sensation being repeated in his own body mere seconds later. He could feel his own sharp nails biting into Liam’s shoulder, the sting of his own bite in the other man’s neck when Liam clenched around him.

It was the oddest yet most amazing sensation, his brain quickly fogged by the pleasure. He felt as though he was being overwhelmed by his senses, Liam enveloping him in every sense of the word. His body seemed to blend in with Liam’s, forgetting where he began and where he finished.

Zayn rocked his hips with more purpose at Liam’s demand, holding on more tightly to the other man, almost afraid to lose this sensation. He was reduced to mindless begging in minutes as Liam’s whining filled his ears, the sound of his own name never sounding so beautiful.

“So close,” Liam moaned as Zayn captured his mouth, needing to taste the other man, to memorize this moment forever and ever. He wanted to be able to recall this for the rest of his life, to ease all the suffering he had imagined Liam going through. Zayn wanted nothing more than to replace all those faceless memories of Liam in pain, with this feeling, with this delicious pleasure that was curling through him.

Lost in his own rhythm, now breathless, Zayn grabbed one of Liam’s legs under the knee, pushing it towards the man’s chest to change the angle. Immediately, Liam grunted out loudly, pleas falling from his lips until Zayn’s world exploded with colors, his vision swimming as he lost sight of the man beneath him and yet his body kept pumping.

It took him a few seconds to realize Liam was climaxing, that the sensations and pleasure he was experiences were in fact the other man’s. In addition to his own pleasure, it all became too much, his body quickly shifting as he kept fucking Liam, trying to anchor himself to the man but completely lost in his own world.

Eyes closed, a tight pressure milking his dick, Zayn gave into to the bursting ball of fire behind his eyes, suddenly feeling weightless, his entire body becoming one with what was around him. He could hear his name being repeated constantly, almost like a whisper, or a song directly in his mind. Blinking rapidly, trying to regain his ground, seeking out Liam, Zayn managed to open his eyes after a moment, still moaning from the overwhelming orgasm he was experiencing.

When he finally regained his senses, the sight before him was almost enough to have him coming again. Liam was now kneeling between his thighs much like he had been before, but his lips were stretched around Zayn’s dick, sucking lazily as the man smirked up at him.

“You scared me for a minute,” Liam said, his voice coming out raspy and fucked out as he laid his head upon Zayn’s naked hip, licking at his lips as if he was trying to savour every drop of Zayn’s come.

“Sorry,” mumbled Zayn, not feeling very apologetic as he watched a wide smile settled over Liam’s face, the bigger man rising on all fours to crawl up his body, kissing his lips slowly. “I felt your pleasure, it was so intense, added to mine, I just.”

“Couldn’t take it,” finished Liam, nudging Zayn’s neck with his nose, reminding Zayn of a happy puppy. “I could hear you, in my mind when you came, for a few seconds it’s like we were one.”

“We are one,” Zayn whispered, threading his fingers through Liam’s hair. “Do you think it’s like that every time?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Liam, brushing his lips across Zayn’s own, cuddling into his side until his face was pillowed along Zayn’s shoulder. “We’ll just have to try again to find out, yeah?”

Chuckling, Zayn nodded, fingers ghosting along Liam’s arm, leaving patterns in the wake of his sweaty skin.

“Do you think we rushed into this?” he found himself asking, realizing just how quickly he’d allowed this to happen; Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, the arm wrapped around his waist feeling like the only thing that was keeping him together at this point.

“Waited over 20 years,” breathed out Liam, his words falling easily across Zayn’s chest, matching the rhythm of his heart.

“I think we deserve a night of feeling each other’s happiness rather than pain. More than one hopefully,” continued the other man, pressing a kiss right over Zayn’s heart, making the smaller man think it would make a great place for a tattoo.

“More than one,” Zayn promised, fingers grazing the bite mark he’d left along Liam’s shoulder, feeling his own burn into his skin, the perfect reminder he needed to finally see the light behind the darkness; the pleasure behind the pain.

 

 


End file.
